Broken Glass
by Rivetting Silence
Summary: During the Dark Blues incident, Enzan muses as he falls further into despair. At this point in time, he points the finger at Blues for his suffering, but what happens when he blames to the point... when the finger should pointed at him? [One Shot]


Whoa, the worst angst I've ever written in my writing career, I wrote this for a province contest, when I looked at it, and I figured it could be something Enzan may think of. It's like a story with a regular plot set, the beginning, middle and end with a climax where the protagonist changes. I suppose I could put it that way…

I Disclaim Rockman, because there is no way I could create anything from a series this great.

Enzan's POV all the way.

I have fallen….

And it's your entire fault.

How many times have I tried to remain silent, but end up breaking into someone in the process? Such brazen feelings rush through me as I contemplate my losses, and what I could've gained but never really did. It is nothing more than pure impudence of my within.

I have fallen deeper than I could ever hold my breath, and that means that I am soon to snap like the already broken twig that I've become. As the manipulative friends scratch away at my flesh, claiming they feel things shall be fine, and manipulating my vulnerabilities; they take me in and take me all together. Do you really think that I enjoy being a toy? Played with and then tossed away like nothing, I'm sure it's a life all would long to live, wouldn't you say?

Battered and bruised to the point that I lay on the floor, like a cloth that was blown away, I plead for it all to be a nightmare, but of course it is. Soon I will wake up to find less than I had before. How many times have I laughed at myself in the mirror for no reason, smashing the seven years of more bad luck into myself, it's an interesting feeling, as before I had never laid a single finger on superstitious omens, yet they come to me anyway. Therefore, I'm just trying to turn everything around, like it already has. After all, it couldn't get any worse…

What a load of bull that is.

You claimed eternity for me, the scripts of time would be overcome, and my wishes you would grant. You've taught me legends, faith, planets, lives, philosophy, and worst of all you've taught me hope. What have I to show for it now? Bandages rotting two weeks in, proverbial flies on the paper-thin walls, seeing the silhouettes of my 'friends' looming over me, watching me shrink to the point where they can pick at me like vultures. I laugh… because it's funny.

Hope makes me laugh, for it is pabulum for the small, uneducated children. Shielded from the outside world where they win their stupid little games of checkers and Monopoly all the time, as their guardians give them so-called second chances after doing wrongs and telling lies. However, the minute they step out of the world, they will see… they will see that they were lied to, as they are given an insurmountable taste of fear, despair and defeat.

Did you say morbid?

No, that's not it, I'm just negative.

It takes more than heart to make it to the top, and more than genius to stay there, for a building always needs support at the bottom, or you could say at the beginning. As it develops the support cannot grow any larger, for if so it will crumble. Fortunately and yet unfortunately, I never had such a thing occur, for I always had a mere spec of such supports, and now that it crashed down, so had I in the middle of… construction.

Anyone can play the fool, and allow themselves to fall into the traps that say how perfect life can be. If they are foolish or desperate they could always do that, so long as they are prepared for the consequences, wouldn't you say? It's the amusing repetitive cycle; crash and burn, crash and burn, step on the breaks, and continue on the road after a close call, only to do the infinitive…

Seriously, I'm not being bitter…

It's simply realistic.

Have you ever thought of why I had the habit of hugging my knees before you came and left so suddenly? Did it ever cross your mind why anybody would hug their knees so close? What do you think it is? Would you think they're cold? Well, you could always say that, but there are always better ways to put it. So let me define myself to you.

Hugging your knees close to your chest, it seems like you're searching for something close to your body, but the only thing you could ever find is yourself, yes? When you're lonely or abandoned, did you ever want to fall into an embrace? Did you get it, because I certainly didn't…?

Until you came along…

But then you left just as quickly…

With getting tired of a hapless fetal position, I was hoping you'd return and fill me with comfort. Yet again it's another load of fantasy and legend I must abandon isn't it? Sadly, you've etched your existence in here, right here and I know that it will never bid its final parting speech. For some reason, I accept it as another sensation of agony that we all must endure. In other ways, your impression was worse than the bowls of below the surface, because it was like an offering of peace.

It was an offering I took too seriously; something I welcomed too easily. Your comforts and love also was brought from maneuvering around the corners, but in a way that it was truly sincere. You gave me your hand with nothing in return, and I accepted it to simply, to desperately. Where did it lead me? It led me to hell in a hand-basket, so it's your entire fault. Isn't it? ISN'T IT?

Look where it brought me, it made me feel miserable. If you hadn't come to help me, and let me take advantage of your kindness this would've never happened now would it? Everyone would be in there respective homes, I'd still be the same child. I'd still be the same child that never saw the little gleam of hope, that never saw those ridiculous legends of happy and fairytale. It's pathetic what you made me see about life, everything has you to blame, and I can point the finger without second thought.

Yet your grins of my stupidity fail to flee, and continue to disassemble my world, just waiting for me to awaken. The cackles and the ugly greased noses shooting up in pleasure of my despair, as I remain blind and blameful, and I'm pointing the finger right in your face, the pinked end of it slowly dissolving before my very eyes.

No… no you tried your best…

You failed me, because I failed you, and I find no salvation in your loss…

These morbid, bitter tears can be the evidence of my crippled displeasure…

OWARI

So yeah, I hope you like it, please review without flames.


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